


quiet

by cheekiestcheeky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Stupid misunderstandings, and get coffee together a lot, idk just a lot of fluff, they meet in english lit, you know the drill of college relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekiestcheeky/pseuds/cheekiestcheeky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall really likes the quiet boy in his humanities lit course. Getting coffee somehow becomes a thing, until coffee turns into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	quiet

**Author's Note:**

> Glorified tag fic, tbh. Basically inspired by this ([X](http://godblesslouistomlinson.tumblr.com/post/93118197781)), which I started writing some stupid tags to... until tumblr cut me off. So, naturally, I had to write the thing in full. 
> 
> A lotta fluff, short scenes, side harry/louis is very much on the side. Set at my college because 3 months later and I'm actually starting to miss the darn place.
> 
> eta: some of the formatting messed up after posting, sorryyy

Somehow, Niall didn’t notice the boy on the first day of class. 

Which, honestly, is just mindboggling to him now because he swears this boy has some sort of gravitational pull on him, some sort of unseen, magical force that demands all the attention in a room. With his dark hair that’s always styled just so and olive skin and cheekbones and a jaw line that seem sculpted out of marble, Niall sometimes finds it a hard feat to glance away. 

He should look away, because they’re in the middle of humanities lit and there’s really no reason for his attention to be set on the boy sat by the window - particularly because a student on the opposite side of the room is currently speaking, not the boy. The boy hardly ever speaks, though. Not because he has nothing to say or has fallen behind in their readings (he’s always hunched over one of their assigned books – often one they haven’t gotten to yet – and scribbling away in the margins). He’s just the quiet type, Niall figures. 

He’s the quiet type and Niall kind of likes it. 

*

“You should probably just talk to him,” Harry tells Niall one evening in late September. They’re lounging around their dorm, a box of pizza sitting on the pile of open textbooks they should definitely be studying. 

“Not gonna happen.” Niall shakes his head, biting off half of his crust. He knows he shouldn’t have mentioned the boy to his roommate, but sometimes Niall can’t stop himself – he’s especially finding it difficult to stop gushing about amber eyes and sharp cheekbones every Tuesday and Thursday after lecture. 

That said, by 3 weeks into the semester Harry knows full well about the pretty quiet boy in Niall’s lit course. He smiles with a laugh as he pulls off a mushroom from his slice. “I know you say he looks like a god, but, like, that doesn’t mean he’s on a different plane of human,” Harry insists. “I’m sure a simple ‘hi’ works just the same for starting up conversations with deities.” 

But Niall just shakes his head again, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Not with this one.”

Harry tosses the rest of his slice back into the box with a laugh. “But it’s not like you’d know.” 

“Okay, but he’s never even looked in my direction before, alright?” Niall’s voice drops a bit. “I don’t wanna be some creep.” 

“Saying ‘hi’ to a stranger isn’t being creepy, Niall. It’s sort of the basic requirement for human interaction.” 

And Niall knows Harry’s right – all friends, all couples, and everyone in between start out as strangers. But the thought of going up to this boy after class just to say ‘hi’ leaves Niall feeling sick to his stomach. 

So, “Whatever,” he mumbles and shoves the pizza box to the side to pick up his physics book instead. “We should get back to studying.” 

*

As if to confirm Niall’s earlier suspicions, the boy in question shows up sporting a grey sweatshirt on a Thursday lecture in early October, ‘QUIET’ printed right across the chest in bold type. 

Niall laughs quietly when he sees it, not meaning for anyone else to hear. Most of the other students don’t, too caught up in their own conversations before the start of class. 

But the boy hears him, like he somehow knows the laugh is just for him. He looks toward Niall with his amber eyes (eyes that Niall has thought about more often than he’d like to admit) and gives him a pointed look. A silent _‘what?’_

Niall shakes his head, despite the pink that splatters across his cheeks, surprisingly not deterred by the boy’s sudden attention. “Nice pullover, mate,” he tells him. 

The boy’s brow furrows and he glances down at his sweatshirt. He doesn’t say anything back as he takes his seat, doesn’t acknowledge Niall again. But as the professor gets class started, Niall notices the slightest set of a smile to the boy’s lips. 

And maybe it’s Niall’s overly hopeful imagination, but he’d bet his life savings that a pair of amber eyes keeps jumping toward him throughout the entire lecture. 

*

It’s not Niall’s imagination, not on the following Tuesday when he catches the boy staring at him during a discussion of the play _Translations_. The boy glances back to his open book – the response too quick and the hue of his cheeks too pink for it to be a coincidence. 

*

Quiet Boy shouldn’t be allowed to wear plaid shirts, Niall decides that Thursday. Definitely not ones that make him look like _that_ – all lanky and relaxed and unfairly cozy – with rolled up sleeves that reveal the dark ink covering his forearms. 

It’s distracting, enough so that Niall stutters over his answer when the professor turns the discussion toward him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Quiet Boy smirking. 

*

Soft hair and beanies – that shit should be outlawed because Niall can’t even remember which story this quiz is about. 

*

Quiet Boy’s name is Zayn, Niall learns when the class breaks up for small group discussions. Zayn’s voice is low and gentle and stuck in Niall’s head all night long. 

*

It’s a Thursday near the end of October when their professor’s late, leaving the students filling the corridor outside of the classroom. Most lean against walls, some standing, others sitting, phones pulled out to pass the time or striking up conversations with their classmates. Niall's one of them, slouching against the wall not far from the door, his phone balanced in his hands and a text from Harry lighting up the screen. He laughs at the message and is partway through his reply when a body settles against the wall beside him. He doesn't think much of it until -

"Hey," and Niall knows the voice, its low registers that taunted his mind for hours. 

_SHITSHITSHIT_. He glances up from his phone, finds amber eyes staring at him curiously. Calculating. Waiting. Niall swallows deeply, replies, "Hi." 

Zayn smiles. "Niall, right?" He waits for Niall to nod before adding, "Cool. I'm, erm, Zayn, if you forgot."

 _How could I forget?_ "Right, right." 

A beat passes, and then two and then three and then Zayn's gaze falls to a couple of students across the way who suddenly laugh loudly, the sound echoing in the hallway. His attention's drawn away, and Niall's heart thumps with something like panic. 

The first thing that comes to his lips is, "Did you do the reading?" And of course he's done the reading, Niall _knows_ he's done the reading, remembers seeing Zayn thumbing through the pages of _Metamorphosis_ the week before. 

But Zayn doesn't say that, just answers simply, "Yeah, yeah, did you?"

Niall nods, lets the screen of his phone turn off in favor of golden brown eyes and sharp cheekbones. "Yeah," he answers with a short groan. "Didn't understand a thing, don't think."

Zayn's brow furrows, and he almost sounds concerned when he asks, "Really?"

Niall can't even feign embarrassment. He just shakes his head and makes a face as he explains, "The dude turns into a giant fucking insect." 

"Okay, well,” Zayn sputters on a short laugh, “I mean I think it's pretty obvious that his change is meant to be interpreted, yeah? Even if you’re willing to suspend disbelief enough to take his change literally there are other things to take away from the story itself, and the reactions of his family – ”

"A giant insect, Zayn," Niall deadpans. 

Amber eyes stare at him for a moment like maybe this boy's not used to being interrupted, at least not during literary explanations. But then he's laughing, enough that the skin crinkles around his eyes ( _fuck_ if Niall doesn't want to call that beautiful) and the students across the hall, in turn, stare at them. But Zayn doesn’t seem to notice or care, letting his laughter die off naturally instead of cutting himself short. 

“Alright, alright,” Zayn starts, the laughter still buzzing around his words, “so maybe it’s a little… out there.” 

“It’s fuckin’ weird, mate.” 

Zayn shakes his head, but his lips are still spread with a wide smile and he doesn’t disagree and Niall’s just sort of in awe at the sight of him – the tone of his skin, his hair tucked up beneath a dark grey beanie, his ripped black jeans that cling to his legs and white t-shirt plain but hanging just right under a leather jacket, the facial hair scruffily styled, the angle of his nose and the tilt of his lips, the way that up this close Niall can’t even tell if his eyes are more brown or gold, stuck somewhere between honey and tea – 

And suddenly Niall’s shaken from his thoughts, where he was safely tucking away every observation, and the professor’s there and everyone around him is moving toward the classroom – Zayn included. 

But maybe it’s one of those times, one of those beautifully rare moments of insane courage, or maybe it’s just because Niall wants to figure out the true color of those eyes and memorize the sound of that voice until it’s more familiar than his own; whatever the reason, Niall finds himself taking a hasty three steps forward just to stop Zayn with a touch to the elbow. 

Zayn turns around just outside the classroom door, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow. “Yeah?”

It feels like an out of body experience, blood rushing, heart pounding, when Niall hears himself wonder aloud, “Would you want to maybe grab coffee after class?” Niall doesn’t even _like_ coffee, but it feels right to ask. 

It feels right and Zayn’s lips quirk with a tiny smile – the same sort of quiet smiles the two had been sharing in class for weeks. “Yeah, that’d be – I’d like that.” 

*  
 __  
 **harry:** ?  
 **harry:** ??  
 **harry:** dude did u ditch me  
 **harry** : niaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllllllll :(  
 **harry:** did ur prof show or r u ignoring me

_**niall:** prof just showed sry  
 **niall:** alsO GETTING COFFEE WITH ZAYN AFTR CLASS !!!!!!!!_

__**harry:** U SPOKE TO HIM ????? !!  
 **harry:** did u say ‘hi’  
 **harry:** did hi do the trick I bet it did  
 **harry:** i’m so proud of u look at u go  
 **harry:** aw niii ur growing up so quick  
  
*

Getting coffee with near strangers can undoubtedly be awkward, especially when your only current commonality is a required liberal studies course for underclassmen. But somehow, by some miracle, it’s not awkward at all. The walk from the English building to the coffee shop just off campus is filled with simple conversation, the basic run down from major (studio art for Zayn, music education for Niall) to class year (both sophomores) to schedules (too many morning classes all around) and somehow also their favorite colors (red and green, respectively). 

“You don’t even like coffee,” Zayn repeats dumbly as they grab their mugs and head toward an empty table near the back of the shop. 

Niall at least has the good mind to blush while he sets down his mug of hot chocolate, loaded with whipped cream. (Best way to order it, of course.) He shrugs, letting his backpack fall beside his chair, and mumbles in reply, “Coffee was the first thing that came to mind.” 

“You’re sort of ridiculous, you know that?” Zayn says it in good nature, a smile peeling across his lips. He shakes his head, seems to hold back saying anything more. 

Niall can’t help a laugh, hopes his cheeks don’t burn too bright. “I’ve been told once or twice.” 

The other boy doesn’t speak again for a minute, taking the time to strip off his shoulder bag and leather jacket, draping them on the chair beside him. He picks up his mug – some special pumpkin spice latte – and takes a long sip from it before looking back to Niall with a slight smile. “Coffee’s good, though,” he eventually settles, voice quiet. 

Niall’s stomach dips, and he smiles with a rush of nerves and relief and anticipation. “Good,” he says, “I’m glad.” 

* 

By the time they part ways at the edge of the campus quad, their dorms opposite directions, Niall decides that Zayn isn’t all that quiet at all. Not really. 

*

It becomes a routine of sorts, class and coffee every Tuesday and Thursday. 

They talk about class and their readings every now and then, but mainly they talk about their lives – their roommates and friends, the obnoxiously loud neighbors next door and upstairs (“Sasquatch lives above me, swear to god, mate”), the insane amount of work they’re struggling through, music gigs, crazy nights, busted parties, and everything in between. 

Zayn talks about his family some, namely his sisters he hasn’t seen in months. “It’s easier to call my mom,” Zayn says one day, quiet over his mug (by now something mint, despite it only being early November). “She’s home and always picks up. My sisters are off all the time with friends and, I don’t know. It’s down to sporadic texts and Facebook posts. It’s not the same.” And Niall agrees it’s not; it’s not and missing home is never fun. 

And Zayn listens to all of Niall’s rants about the music department and the unfortunate disorganization of it all. He listens and he never complains, never cuts in or asks for a change in topic. Rather he nods along and gives his two cents and genuinely seems concerned when Niall mentions a poor grade or missing a class or two. 

He always seems concerned and always seems to care, and it leaves this fuzzy sort of feeling curling in the middle of Niall’s chest. 

*

It’s not long, only the middle of November, when their routine turns into coffee and “Wanna grab a bite?” 

*

And then ‘grabbing a bite’ casually turns into _more_ , like, “There’s this free film tonight, reckon we should go?” 

“I have to go to this art gallery thing tonight, for class. It’s free, though… wanna tag along?”

“Picked through writing a new song the other night, wanna hear?”

“C’mon, I _need_ another model yet. Please?”

*

Free films and campus events then turn into evenings spent over forgotten textbooks and half-eaten take-out boxes. Most evenings are spent with a movie popped into the DVD player, their assignments scattered across the table, and the two of them curled up at opposite ends of the sofa – just enough space kept between them. 

They fall into an easy, quiet routine, just the two of them. No labels, no talk about what this is or what this could be. It’s just them, just how they are – simple and relaxed. 

*  
 __  
 **harry:** niall that’s like the clear cut definition of a date  
 **harry:** like pull out a dictionary  
 **harry:** google it  
 **harry:** use common knowledge  
 **harry:** ‘dinner and a movie’ is a date

__**niall:** it’s indian food and iron man  
 **niall:** in his dorm room  
 **niall:** liam will probably be there. Louis 2, probs ;)  
 **niall:** also, you and I do dinner and movies all the time sooooo 

__**harry:** … you’re right. We do. Niall. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.  
 **harry:** …  
 **harry:** I wanna ride you to the moon and back and have ur perfect blue eyed babies xox 

_**niall:** fuck off  
 **niall:** also ily_

_**harry:** love you too. enjoy your D A T E ! :)_

__**niall:** srsly fuck off  
  
*

Harry takes to Zayn quickly and easily, as he does with nearly everyone, and it doesn’t take long for Zayn’s roommates, Louis and Liam, to warm up to Niall. They don’t have much of a choice, though, not with how often Niall comes around. 

But Harry tags along sometimes, too, and the five of them mesh like a family during their last month of the semester. They grow into easy friendships and end up crammed around a single table at the dining hall more days than not. Louis and Harry seem to hit it off faster than anyone else, full of big laughs and lingering touches and gentle smiles. 

None of the guys mention what they see, though, even if it’s right in front of them. They don’t mention a lot of things, even when maybe they should. 

* 

“Reckon you should probably just tell him,” Niall says to Harry one evening, a rare night he finds himself in his own dorm well before 9 pm. 

He can’t see Harry’s face from where he’s sat, his roommate hunched over his laptop to finish a final paper. But if he could, he imagines his best friend would be rolling his eyes when he says, “Yeah, big chance, that.” 

The thing is, they have three days left of classes and then four days of exams and Niall’s been watching his best friend chase around Zayn’s best friend for nearly a month now. They get on well enough and seemed to have one of those wild instant connections – the type you see in those kitschy, fate-ridden romantic comedies but rarely off screen. They have something good going, but neither Harry nor Louis will say a word about it. Funnily enough, both _have_ whined to their best mates about the inevitability of missing each other over winter break. Amazing. 

“Why not?” Niall asks – nearly whines; they’ve been having this conversation on loop for nearly two hours straight. 

Harry shrugs, pointedly concentrating on his screen. “I like our friendship. Don’t want to ruin things.” 

“And if there’s a 99% chance that he feels the same?” Niall wonders, failing to mention that he already knows it’s guaranteed. (Zayn and he have shared many a night whining about their whiny, moping roommates over 2 am texts.)

Harry sighs, draws it out rather dramatically as his typing slows. “Just leave it for now, yeah?” He says, finally turning in his desk chair to face Niall. “It’s not like I’m going to drop this paper right now and run to the middle of campus for some big declaration of love on a Wednesday night, anyway. Too fucking cold for that.” 

Niall laughs shortly, easily picturing his friend and Louis running toward each other in the middle of the quad with flushed cheeks and hearts on their sleeves; it’d be perfect for them, really. But, he keeps the thought to himself. 

“Besides,” Harry speaks up after a minute, “ _I_ reckon you should probably take your own advice, Ni. Time’s running out.” 

Even though Harry’s right, Niall ducks his head, a blush on his ears, and replies, “Whatever. Get back to your paper, Haz.” 

*

Harry’s right, though. The next day is their last class meeting for English lit, and the usual sense of elation that buzzes around the classroom on the final day doesn’t quite extend to Niall. And if the stony look on the face of the quiet boy near the window is anything to go by, it doesn’t extend to Zayn either. 

Class finishes early, and Niall and Zayn seem to be the only two dragging their feet. They meet outside the door, faces unnaturally long and the mood collectively glum around them as they trudge across campus to the coffee shop without a word. It’s routine, and it’s only fitting for their last day. 

They’re seated with steaming mugs between them before Niall looks across and notices a familiar grey sweatshirt, ‘QUIET’ big across the chest. A smile tickles the corner of his lips as he comments, “Nice pullover, Zayn.” 

A smile pulls at Zayn’s lips, too, but it stays muted. “Thought you’d appreciate it.” 

_It fits today_ , Niall thinks, turning to his mug of hot chocolate. It’s the quietest Zayn’s been seen October, since before Niall even knew his name. It feels like years past. 

Their time at the shop finishes with sparse conversation; no declarations of love or heartfelt words confessed over minty warm drinks. Niall wasn’t expecting such, wasn’t planning such, but there’s a small, momentary pang of disappointment in his chest all the same. 

The sky is dark by the time they’re walking back to campus, hands stuffed into their pockets and sweatshirts definitely not warm enough for the early winter weather. Campus is nearly vacant, but it’s to be expected on such a bitterly cold day so close to the end of the semester. 

“You’re here all next week still, right?” Zayn asks, only steps away from their usual parting spot. 

Niall nods with a hum. “Stuck through Friday for finals.” 

“Good,” Zayn says, looking to Niall with his first true smile of the day. “I’ll be seeing you around, then.” 

“’Course,” Niall agrees and nudges Zayn’s shoulder with his own. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Zayn.” 

They come to a stop by the tree at the edge of the quad where they usually part ways, and there’s still a smile on Zayn’s face, a laugh to his lips. “Good,” he says again, and Niall can’t help but smile back. He can’t help but stare as they stand there, neither speaking but neither making any move to leave. The wind’s harsh against their bodies, whipping their thin layers, cheeks and noses (Niall’s especially) rosy from the cold. 

And Zayn must notice it as they’re standing there, because he chuckles suddenly, the skin crinkling around his eyes in the way Niall’s learned to adore. “Come over to mine?” he suggests, instead of their usual “see you” or “let me grab my stuff first, be over in a few.” 

“Yeah?” Niall wonders, curious because he knows they both have papers to write and chapters to review (and finally read). 

Zayn nods, biting his lip. “Yeah. Louis is probably at yours, anyway. Think Liam has some group dinner tonight, too.” 

So Niall nods his agreement and tries not to think much of it, because if he’s learned anything in college it’s to not get his hopes up. But it’s hard not to when Zayn keeps brushing into him as they walk toward his dorm, knocking their shoulders, their hands, anything, and snickering when Niall knocks him right back. 

“Jesus fuck, it’s cold out there,” Niall mutters as they climb onto the elevator minutes later, a burst of heat finally surrounding them as the doors close. 

Zayn laughs as he pushes the button for the fourth floor and falls against the back wall of the elevator. He looks to Niall with his scrunched up eyes, murmurs through his laughter, “You don’t say, Rudy.” 

“Hey, shut up,” Niall whines and immediately covers the tip of his nose, so cold it hurts. “It’s not like I can help it, can I?” 

“Suppose not. But hey, leave it alone,” Zayn says and pulls Niall’s hand away just as the doors open. “The Rudolph nose suits you, Ni.” 

Niall’s thankful his cheeks are already pink, his blush going unnoticed as they get off the elevator. “You’re full of shit, you know that?” he laughs good-naturedly, following Zayn down the corridor. 

“Mm, was actually being honest.”

“Mhm.” 

“I was.”

“Sure.”

“I was!” Zayn insists as he swipes his keycard on his door. The light flashes green and he pushes open the door before looking back to Niall with a cheeky grin. “It’s cute on you.” 

There’s a glint to his eyes and a level of sincerity that leaves Niall glued to the floor, staring on as the dark haired boy enters his dorm. Until, “You coming in, Ni?” He shakes himself out of his stupor, as momentary as it was, and assumes a smile as he shuffles past Zayn and into the dorm he’s learned to appreciate as a second home. 

Lights flipped on and door shut behind them, Zayn turns to Niall with a look on his face that Niall can’t quite read. Not blank, not really contemplative. A moment passes and all he offers is, “Put the kettle on, yeah? For tea or whatever. I’ve got to, erm – “ He doesn’t finish, just nods in the direction of the bathroom. 

So Niall sighs as he turns to the little kitchenette area of the dorm – suite, really – and busies himself with getting the kettle ready and digging through the cupboards to pull out a tea bag for Zayn and a packet of hot chocolate for himself. He turns his back to lean against the counter, arms crossed and eyes falling shut, as he listens to the whir of the water heating up, letting himself warm up with it in time. He only opens his eyes again once he hears a door farther in the dorm, quiet footsteps padding across the carpeted floor. 

Zayn smiles lightly as he comes to stand beside Niall, assuming a similar position. His face is still stiff, unreadable, back to the gloomy state he’d been in during class. 

“What’s up?” Niall asks, tone hesitant and voice soft as he looks to his friend. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Zayn replies with a shake of the head, eyes downcast. “Just got a lot on my mind, you know?” 

Niall laughs because _yeah, Jesus Christ, do I know_. He’s only voiced his concerns about all his final exams and performances for weeks now, to the point where he’s sure all of his friends are tired of hearing about his academic woes. 

And Zayn must know exactly where Niall’s mind goes with his words, because he adds a moment later, “Besides – besides exams.”

“Oh.” A beat passes and, “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Zayn snorts, and it sounds cold, cold as Niall’s fingers still feel. “Don’t think that’d help much,” he says. 

“Oh.” Niall ignores the upset that swims in his stomach. “Alright.” 

Seconds turn into minutes left unused between them, the only sound the water beginning to boil. 

But then, quietly, “Can I… Can I try something, Niall?” 

The words make Niall’s hair stand on end, and he turns to find Zayn already staring at him. His golden brown eyes look darker than usual, the tilt to his lips not as soft or sure. Nervous. 

Niall nods anyway. 

Zayn doesn’t say anything in reply, doesn’t even move for maybe an entire minute – it feels like hours to Niall. His eyes hardly move from Niall’s, seemingly stuck in place, but then they drop just a tad. Inches, maybe less. They stick again, staring for seconds and seconds and seconds that stretch on with no end, until – 

Until soft lips press against Niall’s, tentative and light. The connection hardly lasts five seconds before Zayn’s pulling back, but Niall’s heart races like he just took a running leap off a cliff. 

“Sorry,” Zayn starts, despite the touch of a smile pulling at the right corner of his mouth. “Just been thinking about that a lot today.” 

The kettle grows louder behind them. 

"Do it again."

The slight blush on Zayn's cheeks roars, and he looks something like amazed. "Again?" 

"Yeah," Niall says, and the hum of Zayn's low laugh is the last thing he hears but the first thing he feels when he pushes forward to bring their lips back together. And God it feels good, the way their lips slot together and the hand that comes to rest along the side of Niall's head, cupping his jaw. A thumb brushes across his cheek, and he revels at how warm Zayn feels against him, the contrast in temperature sending a thrill down his spine. Zayn tastes like peppermint and coffee, and Niall can't stop himself from smiling into the kiss, feeling Zayn's lips curve back against his. 

It's only once the water's boiling and the kettle clicks off that they back apart. It's surreal for a moment, pulling away and blinking open his eyes to see dark, bronze irises staring back at him. 

Zayn's hand is still a warm weight against his skin when he says quietly, "Tea time, yeah?"

Niall only nods, because he can’t seem to get his head to shake _no_ , and lets Zayn step away to fill their mugs. He watches the steam rise from their cups, watches as Zayn rips open the hot chocolate pack to pour into one mug and dips his tea bag into the other. He watches with a silent sort of interest, unable to keep his eyes from traveling the length of Zayn's arms, his shoulders, up his neck and along his profile. And they should maybe say something – speak up about what’s just happened, excitement still warm on their reddened lips – but they don't. 

They don’t say a word before Niall pulls Zayn's hands away from the mugs and the spoons he'd pulled from the drawer, crowding him against the counter in a daze. His hands fall onto the edge of the counter beside Zayn’s hips, and they’re close, _so close_. Zayn’s breath is warm against Niall’s skin, his exhales growing closer and closer together as they stand like this, Zayn caged between Niall’s arms. 

Niall lets his eyes soak up the view, as up close as only the imaginings of his dreams, blue eyes bouncing across olive skin and pink lips and falling into mousy eyes with a silent question, _can I?_

Zayn breathes out a laugh, his mouth curving into a smile as his eyes drop to Niall’s lips. He nods, the motion hard to see at such a close proximity. 

But Niall can still make out the slight movement, see the assent around circles of amber brown, and he only waits a breath before crashing their lips together. 

It’s rougher this time, not as tentative and calculated but more reckless and brazen. But that’s alright, that’s okay, because where Zayn’s careful and quiet, Niall’s always been a little more impulsive and rough around the edges. So it’s only fitting that Zayn’s hands seem to caress, to cradle, and Niall’s seem to grab, to pull – at his hair, at his neck, at the back of his shirt. 

Zayn grunts into the kiss with a smile, and then he’s grabbing Niall’s face to hold it in place, his lips drawing away and pressing lightly along the line of Niall’s jaw, down his neck, pausing centimeters below his ear. 

It leaves Niall speechless. Thoughtless. Something like breathless. 

The water in their mugs runs cold.

*

They both come to an agreement that evening to not go _too far_ – too far being anything more than grabbing hands, tussled hair, and snogging each other senseless into the sofa cushions. (They’re happy to be alone.)

“I just, don’t want to do too much before we leave,” Niall mumbles dumbly, looking up at Zayn who has him trapped against his blankets later that night. They moved to Zayn’s bed once they deemed the sofa too constricting; the provided extra-long twin bed isn’t a huge upgrade, but at least they’re not falling off. 

Zayn studies him for a moment, his dark eyes twinkling just slightly in the shadows. “How come?” he wonders. 

Niall shrugs against the mattress, cheeks burning. “Dunno.” _I just don’t want to miss you too much._

“Hm,” Zayn hums thoughtfully, but he nods a moment later. “Alright. We’ll take it slow.” 

And Niall’s thankful as Zayn rejoins their lips, because he already knows he’ll be missing Zayn’s taste like crazy over winter break. 

*

Niall escapes Zayn’s grip the following morning just in time to leave for his Friday morning theory class, but not without resistance. He’s closing the door to the dorm ten minutes later, a laugh on his lips and a familiar grey sweatshirt with ‘QUIET’ on his chest. 

*

Since early November, Niall meets up with Zayn’s one roommate Liam for lunch on Fridays. They both finish class at the same time and once Zayn introduced them they realized they often pass each other on campus between classes. Lunch, and their easy friendship too, became a simple thing. 

That Friday, Niall doesn’t expect anything different from usual until Liam snorts and comments over their table of food, “Nice sweatshirt, Niall.” 

Niall doesn’t know the last time his cheeks ever burnt so pink. 

* 

Between papers and exams and studying, Niall barely sees anyone for the full next week. He manages one of their weekly meals, all five of them, but otherwise he excuses himself to the library and doesn’t leave until midnight. 

Zayn joins him at the library one evening – “Just to study, I swear.” But the words Niall’s trying to understand and the definitions he’s been trying to memorize somehow turn into warm brown eyes and cheeky grins right in front of him. 

Niall learns that some kisses stolen in the stacks make a nice study break.

*

Zayn leaves the Thursday of finals week, and Niall isn’t expecting much when he stops by to help Zayn pack up his things for break. But he gets to meet Zayn’s dad and one of his younger sisters, Safaa, when they’re loading up the car, and they greet Niall like they already know him – like they’ve known him for ages. 

“Mom says he talks about you all the time,” Safaa tells Niall, bundled up and standing beside the car with one of Zayn’s bags in her arms. 

“Quiet, Safaa,” Zayn nearly hisses from where he’s helping his dad pack the trunk. Safaa giggles but doesn’t say anything more. 

Niall’s ready for a “see you in a few weeks” or maybe just a wave goodbye, a quick hug if he’s lucky. But before Zayn’s dad and sister have even gotten in the car, Zayn comes up to Niall with a smile and catches his lips in a short kiss. He pulls away a moment later, his smile wide and toothy, and says, “I’ll see you in January, yeah?” 

Cheeks pink from more than the cold, Niall manages a smile as he nods. “See you.”

*  
 __  
 **niall:** was packing and I found your hoodie in my stuff! oops?

_**zayn:** stealing all my clothes, ni… gonna start sending you a bill :-P  
 **zayn:** lmao it’s fine I’m sure you’ll *cherish* it haha_

_**niall:** dunno z, might lose it _

_**zayn:** no you won’t  
 **zayn:** you wore that sweatshirt like 3 times this week hahaha_

_**niall:** it’s comfyyyyy _

__**zayn:** uh huh . surrrrreeeee :-P  
  
* 

They don’t talk much at first over winter break, just share a few texts every now and then. Zayn sends a lot of snaps with his sisters, always big grins and out having fun somewhere. Niall almost feels dumb for the ache of _imissyouimissyouimissyou_ that’s taken residence in his chest. 

*  
 __  
 **harry:** so guess where I am

_**niall:** idk. home? _

Harry’s next message is a photo showing him and Louis pulling funny faces at the camera, heads together. 

_**harry: **he invited me for new year’s. guess his fam throws some big party? Idk exactly, but :D**** _

Niall pretends not to feel the pang of jealousy that unfurls in his stomach. It’s not an impossible concept, Harry taking the time to visit Louis during break; they only live about an hour apart, anyway. But Niall can’t help but curse himself for attending a school out-of-state, his home hours away from nearly everyone he’s met on campus. He curses himself even more for falling for a boy who lives hours and hours away in the exact opposite direction. 

* 

The ‘Quiet’ sweatshirt maybe becomes Niall’s favorite way to bundle up on cold winter nights at home. 

*  
 __  
 **zayn:** HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!!!!!! X  
 **zayn:** wish u were here :-/

 __ **niall:** WOO HAPPY NEW YEAAARRRRR ! XX  
 **niall:** me too  
  
*

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the second week of January, when Niall’s phone buzzes in the pocket of his sweats. He grunts as he tries to free it from the cotton material without putting down his controller but to no avail. Game paused, he digs his phone out of his pocket and clicks the button to light up his screen.  
 _  
 **zayn:** … i really miss you. _

_Oh._ Niall bites his lip, unlocks his phone, and taps out a quick reply.  
 __  
 **niall:** awww man and i was totally enjoying my one man party on the 'i miss you' boat ;)

_**zayn:** sorry to crash your party ni_

_**niall:** i mean i GUESS there's room for one more..._

_**zayn:** we can keep each other company? _

_**niall:** wouldn't that defeat the whole purpose of an 'i miss you' boat?_

_**zayn:** nah cause we'll still be missing each other, just missing each other together_

_**niall:** right... seems sorta silly tho _

__**zayn:** :-(  
  
Niall waits a minute, his eyes flickering back toward the game still paused on screen, before swallowing his nerves and sending back a proper reply.  
 __  
 **niall:** on the real tho z  
 **niall:** i really miss you too  
 **niall:** this break is unnecessarily long

_**zayn:** i know :-( just under two weeks now, yeah? _

Niall mentally calculates it out, even though he's had a countdown going since the day Zayn left campus. 

12 more days and they'll be back on campus. 

*

And it’s fine. The days start to pass too quickly, like they always do on school breaks; Niall busies himself with helping around the house, meets up with some old friends, tries to generally not mope about boys with dark hair and golden brown eyes. Harry texts too often and facetimes Niall twice to fill him in on how Louis and he are now “something like a couple-ish, I mean – I don’t know, we like kiss and hold hands and stuff and jesus, Niall, he’s literally like something else in bed – but I don’t know, don’t know if we’re exclusive or whatever.” (They are.)

And that’s fine – that’s better than fine, because Harry’s his best friend and of course he’s happy for him. 

But Niall hasn’t heard from Zayn in three days and he’s starting to wonder if “I miss you” is a lasting feeling or a short-term sentiment. 

*

“NIALL!” 

He’s greeted with a shout and a bear hug the second he walks into his dorm, bags and duffels still slung over his shoulders. Laughing, he sputters around the curls tickling at his mouth and pats Harry’s back in the best makeshift hug he can manage. “Missed you, too, Haz.” 

“Was going crazy without my daily dose of Niall relief,” Harry admits as he pulls away, a grin spread wide along his lips. 

“Seriously,” a voice pops up from farther in the room, and Niall turns to find Louis lounging on Harry’s bed. He grins and adds, “He wouldn’t shut up about you, honest. Was starting to think he was a bit obsessed.” 

Harry rolls his eyes dramatically – something Niall’s sure Harry’s picked up from Louis – and assures him, “I’m just used to having you around, you know?” He doesn’t wait for Niall to respond, buzzing in the way he always does with a change of pace. “Anyway, Liam and Zayn are coming by later, with food and all. Hope you don’t mind.” 

Louis snorts, even though his eyes are distracted by something on his phone. “Speaking of obsessed…” 

Harry laughs, too, and Niall frowns. “What’s that supposed to be mean?” 

“It means,” Harry says as he takes one of Niall’s bags to help him unload, “that you’ve apparently been Zayn’s favorite topic of conversation.” 

“What?”

“Yeah…” Louis laughs, glancing up from his phone. “Liam visited for Zayn’s birthday last week, right, and Zayn got totally sloshed that night and wouldn’t shut up about you. Proper embarrassing. Think he’s more than a little mortified by the whole thing, too, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t show tonight.” 

“It couldn’t have been _that_ bad,” Niall insists. He’s had his fair share of drunken nights, and none of them have ever kept him from showing his face. 

Harry and Louis share a look before both laughing. “I don’t know, Ni,” Harry says, “I mean Liam thought it was incriminating. _Liam_.” 

“Yeah, it wasn’t all exactly PG,” Louis adds. “From what we hear, anyway.” 

Niall’s cheeks flame at that, but he shakes his head as he drops the last of his bags. “Still, I think he’ll at least show.”

*

Zayn shows. Though, it’s not without downcast eyes and a quiet demeanor the whole evening. Bursts of pink pop across his cheeks whenever Niall catches his gaze over one of the delivery boxes. He hardly says three full sentences the whole time. 

It’s not quite the reunion Niall had in mind. 

*

Their schedules don’t line up so nicely this semester, Niall and Zayn. Their attempts during the scheduling period in the fall to share one of their spring courses all failed. So, they’re stuck with conflicting schedules. Zayn has to put in more hours at the art studio; Niall should really spend some more time in the practice rooms. All of the odds stack against them, and it doesn’t help that Zayn’s still being unnaturally quiet two weeks into the semester. 

Sometimes, towers crumble if you stop putting the effort into keeping them up. Niall hopes that’s not the case with them.

*

They try for lunch on a Monday, early February. Niall’s class runs late and a classmate holds him back with a dire question, and lunch never happens. 

*  
 _  
 **niall:** coffee today? my treat!_

_**zayn:** group project meeting tonight, sorry :-(_

_*_

_**zayn:** liam and me are heading to the movies in a bit – join us?  
 **zayn:** I’ll pay for popcorn :-D _

_**zayn:** ???? _

__**zayn:** are you seriously napping rn  
 **zayn:** it’s 6  
 **zayn:** on a saturday 

_**zayn:** niiiiiiiiaaaaaaallllllllllll  
 **zayn:** wake up wake upppp_

_**zayn:** last chance we’re leaving in five_

__**zayn:** guess not mate. :-(  
  
*

The ‘Quiet’ sweatshirt doesn’t smell like Zayn anymore. Niall’s not sad about it. He’s not.

*  
 __  
 **niall:** wanna grab a late lunch?

__**niall:** ?  
 **niall:** ??  
 **niall:** no??? 

_**niall:** dinner?_

_**niall:** did u die zayn_

_**zayn:** Niall! Sorry! Been stuck in the studio all day. Lost track of time too apparently aha. Sorry _

_*_

_**zayn:** have to go to this art gallery tonight. Wanna go together?_

__**niall:** I’m helping w/ a friend’s recital tonight! Ugh. Next time?  
  
*

It’s the last day of February when Niall decides he’s had enough – enough of conflicting schedules and sudden delays and professors and classmates and group projects and everything else that’s been getting in the way. 

It’s the last day of February and it’s 3 am and maybe Niall’s gone a little crazy because he’s slipping on a pair of sneakers and snatching Louis’ keycard from his jeans on the floor where they’re always thrown when he’s over (and of course he’s over, he’s always over). There’s snow covering campus, nearly a foot of the white fluff stacked up and still falling as Niall trudges across the uncleared paths to the dorm building he hasn’t really seen at all the past few weeks. 

The bottoms of his sweatpants are caked with snow and damp against his legs when he swipes the keycard to enter the building. Most of the lights are off in the halls, and no one’s at the front desk – not at this time of night – and it’s eerie walking in a place that feels like an old home but doesn’t look like it anymore. 

By the time Niall’s standing in front of a familiar door, he doesn’t feel so cold as he does empty. There’s something weighing heavy in his chest, something that feels like loneliness and makes his body ache more than the winter winds, and for a second it almost disappears as Niall raises his hand and raps his knuckles against the door. 

Nothing.

He should maybe expect as much; it’s 3 am, anyway. 

Another knock, another quiet response. 

It takes five more tries before there’s sound on the other side of the door – rustling, quiet footsteps. They stop at the door, then there’s a brief pause before the _click_ of a lock and Liam’s poking his head around the door. 

“Niall?” His voice is groggy, and the squint to his eyes tells Niall that he just rolled out of bed. 

Niall manages an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Li – I was just, erm… is Zayn here?” 

Even in his barely awake state, Liam laughs knowingly and nods. “Probably asleep, but yeah, he’s here,” he says and opens the door wide enough for Niall to enter. He pauses after closing it and turns toward Niall with a wrinkled brow. “How’d you get in, anyway?” 

“Oh,” Niall starts with a smile and digs the ID card from his pocket. “Swiped Louis’ card for a bit. Don’t think he’ll miss it much.” 

“Ah, makes sense,” Liam replies as he leads the way to the bedroom. The lights are still off, just the fluorescent overhead from the living room flooding the space, and Niall can make out Zayn’s form on the one bed, curled toward the wall. He almost feels bad when Liam shakes him awake. Almost. But that ache seems to outweigh all rational thoughts and feelings because he’s actually relieved when Zayn rolls over and regards Liam with an empty curse. 

“Fuck, Liam, I _just_ got to sleep what – ”

“You have a visitor, butthead.” 

It’s only then that Zayn looks past a smugly smiling Liam, his eyes widening and then face contorting in confusion. “Niall?” 

“Hi, Zayn,” Niall greets with an uncertain smile. Uncertain because suddenly he’s so, _so aware_ of Zayn and Liam staring at him, eyes intent and curious and confused, the ridiculous time of night (on a Thursday, what the hell was he thinking?), the state of his snow-dampened clothes, and the total lack of justification for his presence. 

But in his midst of internal criticism, he misses the way Zayn’s features soften, completely fails to notice the boy getting out of bed and nearly tripping over his sheets to wrap Niall in a crushing hug. 

Zayn doesn’t say anything, not at first, just holds Niall in a hug tight enough to make up for weeks – months, really – of absence. It feels so good having Zayn this close again, warm and friendly, that he doesn’t notice how long they stand like that until Liam clears throat. 

“Right,” Liam murmurs, his words curving around a smile, “I’m going to head back to bed, get some more sleep, if you don’t mind?” He shifts his eyes toward the living room expectantly, but he’s grinning when he adds, “Don’t stay up all night.” 

They move into the other room, words as silent as their steps. Zayn settles against the armrest of the sofa, arms crossed against his chest and legs stretched in front of him. He’s dressed in a pair of red plaid sleep pants and a big cream long-sleeve shirt, and his hair’s shaggier than Niall remembers, hanging loose. He looks so soft and comfy and cozy that Niall curses the few steps separating them. 

But then Niall remembers the reason he’s not closer, why they’re not pressed against each other on the too small couch or crowding each other’s space. 

They haven’t properly seen each other since the end of the fall semester, haven’t properly _spoken_ in nearly just as long. 

“Sorry,” is the first word out of Niall’s mouth, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I know it’s late, really late, but I couldn’t sleep and I was mad that we keep missing each other and – and – I don’t know, it’s dumb I guess, but I thought we were getting _somewhere_ before break but then – ”

“Niall.” 

He glances up, finds Zayn staring at him with a small smile. “What?”

“Hi.” 

“Hi.”

“Okay,” Zayn says, amusement sliding along his lips. “You want to start over with some less confusing words?” 

“Okay.” 

“Alright, and… Relax, yeah?”

Niall doesn’t counter that, but he does take a deep breath, lets it fill his chest. He waits a moment more before wondering what really brought him here in the first place, “Why’d you stop talking to me?” 

Zayn furrows his brow. “When did I do that?” 

“Near the end of break, when we first got back,” Niall supplies, unable to conceal the hint of hurt in his words because he still feels like he did something wrong. 

Zayn’s face stays scrunched up like he can’t remember those weeks they went with barely three or four exchanged texts. But then he’s shifting in his spot, his cheeks falling under a deep blush, and mumbling out, “Oh. I, erm… Freaked myself out, sort of.” When Niall doesn’t say anything, Zayn hangs his head and continues quietly, “I just, I don’t know, my thoughts were all over the place and like… really, um, strong? And you said you wanted to take things slow, so I don’t know, I guess I thought holding back would be the easiest thing.”

Oh. _Oh._ The agreement to not go too far, Zayn’s supposedly embarrassing (and not so modest) night of drinking… Niall shakes his head and laughs, “You held back too much.” 

“I did?” Zayn lifts his gaze from the floor, forehead wrinkled and lip bitten. 

Niall nods and closes the distance between them until they’re only a step apart. His cheeks are warm and his palms are sort of sweaty and he’s laughing because this is just so _ridiculous_. “Zayn, I didn’t – I didn’t want to do too much before we left because – Jesus,” he trails off and scrubs a hand down his face, finishing behind his hand, “I didn’t want to _miss you_ too much over break, Zayn.” 

Zayn laughs bewilderedly, sputters out, “What?”

“You didn’t have to hold back,” Niall continues, “I just wanted to wait until we were back on campus.” 

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.” Niall grins with another nod. “We’re both fuckin’ idiots, Z.” 

“Shit…” Zayn settles, shakes his head like he can’t think of anything else to say. 

“Yeah...” 

There’s a moment, several seconds, where they just stand there, brown and blue holding each other, smiles small but knowing. But then Niall breaks it with, “So, is this the part where we stop being idiots and kiss?” 

And maybe it’s half past three on a late Thursday night, but the tingle of Zayn’s laugh against Niall’s lips makes it feel like a lazy Sunday morning. 

*  
 __  
 **harry:** wow niall, thanks for leaving us a note so lou wouldn’t freak out and tear apart our dorm looking for his id card this morning thnx for that. really.  
 **harry:** you’re helping clean up this mess  
 **harry:** also you owe louis lunch bc he was late for class  
 **harry:** and nearly suffered a premature heart attack  
 **harry:** all thanks to you

__**harry:** did you at least get some  
 **harry:** u kno what I mean  
 **harry:** did you do the frick frack  
 **harry:** the deed  
 **harry:** seal the deal  
 **harry:** make sweet passionate love  
 **harry:** did you zig a zig ah  
 **harry:** please tell me someTHING good came from this 

__**niall:** ahahahahahahahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH  
 **niall:** some good might have come from this  
 **niall:** someBODY might’ve come too  
 **niall:** twice 

__**harry:** niall pls  
 **harry:** I’m trying to eat breakfast  
 **harry:** where are your manners  
 **harry:** also poor liam  
  
*

Their schedules don’t magically stop conflicting, of course. Zayn’s still stuck in the art studio more often than not, and Niall’s coaxed into helping with a couple more recitals and showcases and somehow also pep band? Spring semester is always wild. 

*

They work around their schedules, at least enough to have a proper date on a Saturday night in mid March. 

Like, super proper – fancy clothes, fancy restaurant, fancy everything. Zayn pairs together some dark jeans with his nicest grey sweater, Niall pulls out his nice pair of slacks and a dress shirt, and they head to the nicest sit down restaurant in town. It’s formal and a little stiff and slightly awkward and so ridiculous and Zayn doesn’t understand why they have to go through all this trouble when they could just order in a pizza and call it a date night. But, Niall insists because he’s a sucker for tradition (and forcing Zayn to dress up is fun). 

The night ends with a goodnight kiss – before Zayn invites Niall in and eases him of the burden of undressing. 

*

Zayn takes Niall home for spring break. 

“What?” he asks when the idea’s first suggested and Niall levels him with a serious look. “It’ll save your parents a couple trips and lot of gas money.” 

“So that’s why? You just want to save my parents gas money?” 

Zayn grins over his sketchbook. “Yep. Always doing whatever I can to help out the Horans, you know.” 

“Such a shit,” Niall quips, laughing as he flips through his pages of music. He lets the topic hang in the air for a minute before, “You are… You’re being serious though, yeah?” 

“Afraid so.” Zayn nods, the slightest bit of pink to his cheeks when he adds, “I mean, if you want.” 

It feels serious – more serious than anything they’ve done yet. What they have here, on campus, it’s light and easy, kissing over textbooks and sharing small dorm beds more nights than not. And sure, their families are aware of each other, but spending an entire week together? It feels like it’s maybe something reserved for more serious couples, ones who go on regular dates and make it a point to do _everything_ together – or, like, maybe something reserved for Harry and Louis. It doesn’t feel like something for two boys who fell into some quiet little routine at school that just happened to include each other. 

But, it also feels like something Niall wants. Feels like something they could do, too. So he nods, says, “Yeah, I want to.” 

Niall spends his break learning what it’s like to be an older brother, seeing the young admiration firsthand. He comes to appreciate home cooked meals that taste nothing like home, stuffed full at every meal. He unfolds a page of Zayn’s past, following him around to his favorite spots and meeting a couple of his best childhood friends. And, maybe most fun of all, he learns to keep his boyfriend quiet when they’re very much not home alone. 

*

After spring break they find a small window of mutual free time on Wednesday afternoons. Without discussing it they spend the time at the same coffee shop, just off the edge of campus. 

It feels familiar, even if the afternoons are no longer full of darting eyes and guilty blushes like the start of something new. 

*

*

*

**_October, Senior Year_**

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Vi stopped me on my way out to ask for advice for her senior showcase and I got sidetracked with this whole conversation on how best to set it up and which pieces to include and themes and we even started bouncing around some titles – ”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay, fine, take this and sit, you’ve missed most of pre-game now,” Niall says in a hasty whisper, offering Zayn the second cardboard cup (the one marked coffee, not hot chocolate) he’d been holding since climbing up the bleachers. 

“Shit, really?” Zayn asks as he takes the empty space beside Niall. 

Louis turns around from where he’s seated in front of them, next to Harry, and hisses at them, “Yes, now shut up or Liam’s going to murder you both for talking during his show.” 

“He’s only lead drum major for one song,” Harry points out, earning him a slap and a sharp, “Shut your mouth.” 

It’s as the band finishes its second song and Liam’s just about to take the main podium that Zayn finally takes the second cup from Niall’s hands. “Thanks, babe,” he whispers his reply, turning to press a light kiss to Niall’s cheek. His eyes drop to Niall’s chest, and he laughs under his breath, looking to Niall with a furrowed brow. “Why’re you still wearing that old thing?”

He pokes at Niall’s stomach, as if it – the grey sweatshirt with ‘QUIET’ printed across the chest – needs clarification. 

Niall shrugs a shoulder. He has his reasons, maybe likes the reminder of the sweatshirt, the memories it holds, full of shy smiles and quiet conversations. And maybe he likes that even though a stranger wouldn’t know the sweatshirt isn’t really his, wouldn’t know it actually belongs to a pretty boy with dark hair and golden brown eyes, Niall knows. Niall knows and it leaves a warm, proud sort of sensation unfurling in his chest and spreading through his limbs – but Zayn doesn’t need to know all that, not right now. 

So Niall just nods toward the field and answers shortly, “Dunno. I just like it. Now, be quiet, yeah?” 

Zayn turns his attention to the field after a moment, but not before a small, soft smile settles into place on his lips and he snakes an arm low around Niall’s waist. It’s a steady, warm weight throughout the rest of pregame.


End file.
